


Traveling Alone

by YFWE



Series: Zootopia One-Shots That Might Exist in the Same Universe or Might Not IDK Bro [8]
Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: F/M, lol i remember when i was gonna post this for valentine's day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 00:56:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9854867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YFWE/pseuds/YFWE
Summary: Gideon Grey makes a new acquaintance at a certain bunny and fox's wedding.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Came up with the idea for such a scene about a month ago and just… decided to see where it’d go. Needed something to shake off the rust a little bit.
> 
> Originally meant to post this for Valentine’s Day, but… life. As usual.

By his count – and admittedly, it was a rough estimate – three-fourths of the music was for dancing.

Well, _all_ of it was for dancing, but there was an important distinction to be made between dancing and _dancing_ in Gideon Grey's mind. A marked shift between… first, a swift beat that beckoned all – young and old, limber and sluggish, social mavens and wallflowers – out onto the dance floor with the promise of a raucous, Top 40 radio-backed tune or a choreographed line dance to which everyone knew the moves.

Then there was the other – a slow dance, with you and your partner swaying unhurriedly, arms interlocked, bodies clasped and intertwined tight against earnest declarations of affection from the mammal singing on tape.

He never minded the former. In fact, he would occasionally partake. The fox considered himself an excellent purveyor of the foxtrot, despite what those talent show judges claimed in high school.

The latter—

"Yo, Gid, any cherry left?"

"…right, yeah, sure thing."

The hefty cheetah opposite of him had caught the fox off guard, even though he had very prominently approached from the front, distinctly within Gideon's line of sight. He flashed his patron a meek, apologetic grin, even though there was not exactly much to apologize _for_ , unless staring off into space in the general direction of a wedding dancefloor was a vindictive offense.

"I'll tell ya, they made a great decision asking you to cater dessert. It's been, what, six months since you visited Zootopia last?" Benjamin Clawhauser asked as he leaned against the clothed table behind which Gideon stood, finagling a toothpick in between his pointed fangs to carve out the remnants of a previous snack.

Gideon reemerged from beneath his table, offering a freshly opened box of cherry pie and taking immediately to cutting off two slices – because knowing Clawhauser, there would be need for more than just one slab.

"Yessir, sounds 'bout right. That baking competition final they held at the convention center."

"Uh huh, that's it. Still say ya should've won."

"Just happy to be invited," grunted the fox, plating the slices of pie that practically oozed with the fruit and its gooey glaze. He tended to pack his pastries fuller of filling than most, a practice most evident once their contents were burst open, sugary juices and the contained delicacies spilling out onto a plate or into the take-home containers he often offered at fairs and festivals and the like. That pleased many customers, perhaps most of all the cheetah, himself an expressed connoisseur of most baked goods.

He barely had to hand the plates to Clawhauser before they were snatched up by eager paws in a heartbeat. "Ooh, these look even better than the last five," he announced, following his declaration with a little dance of excitement, Gideon half ready to snatch the pies if they fell. "Am I glad you're friends with Judy and Nick – and that they let me in on the lil secret before today! Ya grrot ahhr grrifft," he said, the last words obscured by the hefty bite he had taken out of the first slice, sans fork.

Biting back the urge to laugh, Gideon waved a paw through the air, nodding his head. "Well, if ya think that, Ben, yer gonna be pleased t'know I'm gonna start mailin'—"

" _GET OUT._ "

"—small orders startin' in the next two months, I reckon. Zootopia included."

" _GET. OUT_."

"Odd, in a million years I'd've never expected you to be interested."

Swallowing hard, Clawhauser dropped his plates onto the table – thankfully, the slices contained remained intact, except for a few stray crumbs – and leaned forward, paws splayed on the clothed surface, his eyes a striking kind of wide and enlarged as the big cat found himself inches from the fox's face. "I will follow your pies to the ends of the earth, Gideon. Do you know that? It's important to me that you know that." 

"I ain't gonna find ya outside my shower curtain with a knife if I ever quit or move far away, am I?"

Clawhauser laughed heartily, one paw clutching his stomach while the other slapped Gideon on the shoulder with impressive force. He remained in the midst of a chuckle as he picked up his pies and hobbled away, back toward the dancefloor.

"…he never gave me an answer," stated the fox to no one in particular, snatching the plastic fork the cheetah had left behind and, after inspecting it through squinting eyes for grime of any sort, opting to toss it into the small trash bin beside him.

Gideon thought back to the music as he did so, ears trained on the pulsating rhythm that reverberated through the gymnasium now, recognizing Hyena Gomez's thin, hushed vocal after a few measures. During Clawhauser's visit, the soundtrack had been far more subdued, a lilting waltz that brought together couples both romantically attached and otherwise, those uninterested taking a breather on the perimeter of the tiled floor that had been laid down over the gym's usual hardwood panels.

That scene had allowed the thought to creep into his mind at all, contemplating the differences between dancing styles and considering whether or not certain moves were dancing at all and not simply over-exaggerated flailing of limbs to a beat. There was variance between the two, he felt, despite what others might claim.

He sighed, fumbling with his apron with weary paws as he watched from afar. He had, all things constant, another 45 minutes in his current setup before he could tear down the table, box his leftover stock and join the festivities. Gideon did not mind it this way; though he did not mind social engagements, no part of him felt drawn to the crowd either – something that had even been the case at his own brother's wedding.

Weddings, they were a fine time, especially if you were directly participating. But it could be a little… _much_. He had resolved a year or two before to have a very small ceremony if he was ever fortunate enough to find someone who would put up with him long enough to decide to exchange vows.

But there was something about _this_ one that felt different. And as could be the hilarious sardonicism of such a sensation, it was never quite obvious why one experienced dissimilar emotions during occasions where the opposite might usually occur. He was lonely. That was it, that was all. He just _was._

He only recalled the feeling once before since adulthood – because throughout his teenage years, yes, he was lonely, but was that not the case for most adolescent mammals who went to school each day without a boyfriend or girlfriend to show off to their peers? Since then, the sentiment bubbled to the surface just once: a few months earlier, on Valentine's Day.

Making dozens of pastries decorated for the occasion might do that to a fox. Aside from the constant flow of customers visiting inside his shop in downtown Bunnyburrow, Gideon had no shortage of special orders for the day he had delivered the night before so that unsuspecting spouses and significant others could be surprised by a pink frosting-covered cupcake or tray of cookies in the morning before work. It had not bothered him the year before; usually the sheer amount of work he had to finish before the end of the holiday kept his mind off his solitude.

But that year had been different, and it was all thanks to an alert he received on his phone a few days prior: the picture of a ring, fitting snugly on one finger of a gray-furred paw. The photo's caption Nick Wilde had written was short, but sweet: "She said yes."

And of course she had. Judy Hopps would have said yes two years before that day, had a proposal happened then. He knew it from the way she looked at Nick, that constant gaze teetering between admiration, infatuation and irritation – the latter not so much in a negative sense, more that the fox could say something so silly, so groan-worthy in a moment's notice that she felt she constantly had to be on the defensive… or perhaps the offensive, if she decided to retort with some witty one-liner of her own. Gideon had noticed the bunny had become quite good at them since she started dating her partner on the police force; not that he was shocked in any way, because that was bound to rub off on her.

They were in the center of the dancefloor now, the music's tempo having returned to something a little more worthy of a slow dance, swaying bodies filling the boundary of the floor around the fox and the rabbit, who maintained a space between their drifting figures and the rest of the participants that no one would dare impede.

The music was an old Jerry Vole classic, originally recorded by some blues guy before him but turned into a lounge-y, piano- and saxophone-laden hit in the '50s. Gideon was only vaguely aware of the song, but he knew it happened to be one of Mr. Big's favorites. His gaze wandered to the corner of the gymnasium, where three hulking polar bears loomed over a small circular table on which the shrew and his family members were situated. Judy had told Gideon she had not been sure if they would even make the trek to Bunnyburrow for the occasion, but Fru-Fru had insisted, he imagined.

"Weird, isn't it?"

Occasionally Gideon had heard tell of a supposed phenomenon that presumed the following: mammals, excusing the general attraction between those of the same species anyway, also had a predilection for the voices of their type as well. Even if it was not wholly obvious to the ears of most – a high-pitched voice, for instance, was a high-pitched voice, whether it came from a rat or a rhino – there was something about, say, the vocal tones of a lion that were attractive to another lion, whether they realized it or not.

He did not know if this was actually true – so-called love doctors said yes, but what did they know? – but if it was, he might have experienced it for the first time in that moment, for he was certain, even before looking for its source, that the question had come from a vixen.

She stared at him from his right side, where the clothed table he stood behind ended and a long empty space began, one that stretched to the restroom line. Maybe she had come from there; he was not sure. He did not think about it much, the places from which mammals come. He much preferred to reside in the moment.

Their eyes met – they were blue like his, a pastel sort of consistency that a mother might exalt as an attractive trait in their young for when they were about to enter the dating pool., or the stuff of mushy, love-declaring cards that dwelled too long on physical features but not enough on personality. They were expectant eyes, but their eyelids were the least bit lowered – not halfway, not like Nick's, just simply enough for it to be noticeable.

He realized their eagerness was because she had asked a question. And he was staring instead of answering.

"Oh, um, uh, come again?"

Emitting the smallest of chuckles, the fox turned her back to Gideon, leaning the small of her back against the table edge, paw palms resting on the checkered cloth. She wore an open-back dress, the midnight blue fabric finally meeting again right above the base of her tail, which was no doubt one of the fluffiest he had ever seen from a fellow fox – he wondered if she had had work done on it, either for the occasion or simply in general. But it was impolite to ask.

"That," she purred again, nodding once toward the dancefloor, and Gideon could tell, despite the ambiguity of her motion, that she had only eyes for Nick and Judy. "Them. The two lovebirds of the evening. It's strange."

"I… I, uh, beg yer pardon, miss?"

"Well, look at them. A fox and a rabbit getting married. Who ever heard of such a thing? Look at how he has to bend down to even grab her waist." She followed with a quick, high-pitched laugh. "Marry another fox and that isn't gonna happen. The mother of the groom must be heartbroken."

Gideon had missed the beginning of the actual wedding ceremony earlier that day, finishing some last-minute touches on the display in the gymnasium before heading outside. As such, he had not met many of the attendees he did not already know from before until they had visited his dessert table – and this vixen most certainly had not come by just yet. But he wished she had, so that he would have at least known the name of the fox he was about to tell off quite soundly –

"If Nick's mom has any sense in her, she'll be happy her son found someone as perfect for him as Judy – as should be everyone else here, if I do say so myself, ma'am." He was trying to remain tempered as he could without raising his voice, but he was finding it to be a struggle.

The vixen whipped her head around at these words, and Gideon expected there to be either a hateful snarl or an apologetic grimace upon her muzzle.

Instead, she wore a mischievous smile, eyelids drooped further than before.

"Well, honey, I'd say you and I might get along just fine." Brushing her paw against her dress to extend it to Gideon across the table, she showed a bit of teeth as her grin widened. "Marian Wilde. Mother of the groom. Pleasure."

Gideon could only sputter something about the pleasure being all his. He was not sure if what had come from his mouth instead were actual words, let alone coherent sentences.

"Cat got your tongue then, hon?" asked Marian with a giggle. "Is that what you're into? Or do the foxes out here prefer rabbits too? I guess there's plenty to go around."

The fox felt his cheeks flush; if he was not already red all over, he would have been right then. "N-no, sorry, ma'am – I mean, Mrs. Wilde. Mrs. Wilde? Anyway, y'just… I wasn't expectin'…"

"You didn't think Nicholas ended up the way he is on his own volition, did you?" deadpanned the vixen, turning back toward the dancing crowd.

"Well, I – shoot, I dunno, he just ain't talked about you and his pa much, that's all. Didn't know what to expect."

"Huh. Much like my son to never open up about his home life to another, I suppose. If only his father hadn't passed away in that tragic roller coaster accident…"

Gideon grimaced, "Oh, shoot, I'm so sorry…"

"Kidding, kidding."

"Er… so he's… not dead?"

"Oh, he is. I killed him. With an axe. Don't tell."

"W-w-wait, are you—"

His stuttering was met with that same impish grin from before. "My goodness, really?" Marian threw her head back, her gaze following the rafters in the gymnasium ceiling through iridescent eyes. "Remind me later that I have a bridge to sell you." She glanced back at him, head reared back so that he saw only her upside-down eyes and the bridge of her snout. "John Wilde, I regret to inform you, is alive and well."

She swiveled her head back toward the crowd, searching through its teeming mass before settling on one figure in particular and frowning. "And today's the first time I've seen in about five years."

Gideon found John Wilde – or, at least, the fox he assumed to be John Wilde – a short time later, not on the dancefloor but alongside it, a few short paces away. He was a spitting image of what Gideon might expect Nick to look in older age, if he ever ended up more accustomed to wearing tight-fitting tuxedos and carried a rose in his teeth, something, admittedly, he could not imagine happening far too often. His eyes were green rather than Nick and Marian's, and they never seemed to lose a wide-eyed, childlike wonder within them, a trait Gideon could recognize even from afar.

It could have been due to the much younger vixen he held tightly in his arms, the pair listing lazily to a merry little tune that had just started up, John's redolent paw clutching the seafoam green fabric just below the vixen's tail, effacing any question about their relation to each other.

"And I'm guessin' that's not y'all's daughter, huh?"

"Perceptive too. What a catch."

Gideon felt his skin burn beneath his fur yet again.

"Wait, but you said –"

"If it's the last name, hon, I haven't gotten around to changing it," Marian said with a shrug. "I rather like the photo on my driver's license now, too. They would've made me take a new picture with the new card. Can you believe that?"

He shook his head, "I mean, I suppose it makes sense…"

"Too much of a hassle, anyway, name changes. I'll just wait until the next guy comes along. Plus, I like the way the name rolls off the tongue, don't you?"

Before Gideon could respond with another fairly uncomfortable retort to the vixen who had very suddenly elbowed into his heretofore introspective night out, Marian spoke again:

"You know, he cheated on me. With her."

"…yeesh, that's… I'm sorry… and he _brought_ her—"

"Yeah, well, I can't fault him for bringing her. She _is_ Nicholas' stepmother now, after all. Has been for a few years now, even before my son and Judy started seeing each other. It'd be petty of me. And anyway, I've got my own hot date tonight."

"Oh! I-I see…"

There was that half-lidded grin again. "My brother Robin. And he's in a wheelchair, has been since his thirties. Not much for dancing…" she peered back at the crowd, where a wheelchair-bound fox sat just outside the perimeter, rocking back and forth, doing what Gideon could only describe as a cross between a pirouette and a wheelie at one point, "…though he most certainly tries."

Gideon chuckled. "He came by earlier. Cracked a joke about how he couldn't stand cherries. I'm only now realizin' what he was sayin'."

"He's a charmer, that's for sure. A good spirit." She rolled her eyes and leaned back against the table again. "Don't happen to know where he got it from."

A few moments passed in between the two foxes, during which the music transitioned into a call-and-response line dance sort of shindig that briefly made Gideon pine for inclusion.

Marian must have seen it in his eyes. "Why're you over here anyway, huh? Not much of a dancer?"

"Judy and Nick asked if I'd help cater. Said I'd do it; I didn't mind. I ain't much of the social type anyway."

"Surely they don't have you here all night."

"Naw. Few more minutes, I reckon. Enough to get the Hopps kids loaded up on sugar so they'll pass out early." He grinned at those last words. "I'm quotin' Stu Hopps there, by the way. So it's OK."

"No arguments here. A couple of 'em went shooting underneath the bathroom stalls while I was freshening up earlier. Think they may have scared one of the elder rabbits so much she might've fell into the toilet." She paused, glancing back at the fox, grinning. "I probably should've checked on her, eh? Hm."

"Mom, are you trying to sell those pyramid-scheme cosmetics at the wedding again? I told you, Gideon wouldn't be interested."

Judy Hopps – or was it Wilde now? Gideon had forgotten to ask – hung off Nick Wilde's right elbow, eyes shut in a blissful smile as her husband strode up to his mother, the two foxes exchanging sly grins.

"Ah, so that's his name, Gideon…" Marian said with a flick of her head. "The kit's so starstruck, Nicholas, that he forgot to introduce himself."

Gideon realized she was not wrong, and he felt that burning sensation again.

"Starstruck, Mom? You know this isn't the Meadowlands Book Club and Margarita Happy Hour for Singles Over 50, right? They only take you out of the home on Wednesdays for that."

"Cheese and crackers, Nick, that's your mom," Judy exclaimed, her voice wavering as she attempted to put on a scolding tone that might mask the giggle she tried so forcefully to suppress.

"Oh, it's fine, Judith, this is what we Wildes do," retorted the vixen with a grin that Gideon swore had a hint of admiration in it. "I mean, when we're not commandeering little playthings half our age." Gideon knew exactly where the look she aimed past Nick and Judy had gone.

"You still haven't bothered to learn Amelia's name, have you?"

"Doesn't ring a bell, Nicholas. Didn't she crash a plane or something?"

"Nope, just your marriage."

" _NICK._ "

The ensuing moments in between Judy's shrill cry and the next words spoken were chiefly soundtracked by some song about not getting older – a trend Gideon had noticed earlier in the evening with the more recent numbers, though he was hardly at liberty to add to his internal tally at that moment – and were otherwise accompanied merely by an aghast bunny, her smug husband, his stoic mother and another fox who wore an apron over his borrowed tux and was wondering how long it had been since Clawhauser had been to his table, since it now practically seemed like months ago.

Marian took one step from away from the table toward Nick, her line of sight not leaving his. Their facial expressions remained unchanged, and both Judy and Gideon glanced at each other, silently drawing up a playbook for who would try to wrestle which fox off the other in a few seconds.

Except now both foxes were laughing – no, guffawing – in each other's arms.

"Oh, Nicholas, I can't even be mad at that one. Bravo. I'm so glad you're my son." Judy watched the vixen wipe below her eyelids, and she could not be sure there had not actually been a real tear there.

"I'll take a hit this holiday in the gift-giving department if you'd like revenge," Nick sputtered, laying two paws on the shoulders of his mother. "It was worth it, though."

"Revenge?" Marian stepped back and, without even looking behind her, grabbed Gideon's apron and pulled him forward, the fox letting out an _oomph_ as his gut connected with the edge of the table, toppling forward and bracing his paws against the flat surface for support. "Nah, Nicholas, not on you. Though do you think it'd make your dad jealous if I hooked up with this young, strapping lad right here? More to love, that's for sure."

Judy, eyes closed, was mouthing the words "are you serious" into one paw while Nick crossed his arms and formed a look of horror on his muzzle.

"We arrived just in time to save you, Gid. In the nick of time, one might say."

The rabbit beside him groaned. "How many times are you going to use the 'nick of time' line tonight? Is this really what I married?"

"Yes, it is, 100 percent."

"…I'm going to go dance more and forget this whole conversation ever happened," said Judy with a pronounced sigh. "Gideon, we came over to tell you to stop already; Clawhauser's had enough as it is and I think everyone else is full at this point. Come on out and dance already! Oh, and," she added with a smile, "thanks again. Seriously. My family from down the coast can't stop raving about dessert."

Gideon returned the smile from his current position slouched over the table as Marian Wilde still held tight to his apron. "Pleasure's all mine, Judy. Seems like everyone's full, yer right. I'll see ya out there."

Nick departed shortly after too, chasing after his now-wife with an apologetic smile upon his face, leaving Gideon and the mother of the groom standing, watching them go as the shining lights careening off the central disco ball above the dancefloor shifted from blue to red.

"So, your name's Gideon. Gideon Grey, then, I'll bet," Marian said finally, her back to Gideon again as she glanced over the dancefloor, the fox behind her packing away a few astray pies and pastries and stuffing leftover napkins into a bin under the table.

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry, didn't realize I didn't say it sooner."

"It's quite all right. The programs have your name in the back under the catering portion, and Nicholas has mentioned you once or twice."

"Oh, yeah?"

"In passing." A few moments passed before the vixen let out a deep sigh. "Sorry that you were the object of my fun tonight. You're the only fox here I didn't know already, and I needed a bit of a break from Robin, party animal that he is."

Gideon scanned the crowd as he slid his leftover concoctions into a different container beneath the table. The festivities were mostly made up of rabbits – Judy's exceptionally large family saw to that – but even amid the assortment of mammals otherwise, foxes were few and far between, especially for a ceremony in which one of the married was, indeed, vulpine.

"Guess I never noticed there ain't a lot of us."

"Well, Nick's grandparents have been gone for a while. John's an only child. I've only got Robin. And Nick… Nick's all we had, too," trailed off the vixen. Gideon noticed her gaze had found its way to John Wilde once more. "I mean, there'd be even less of us here if we weren't the only fox couple on the block who bucked the trend of mating for life. One more body at my son's wedding. Even if it is Amelia."

His area all packed up, Gideon tentatively joined the vixen on the other side of the table, leaning, as she did, against its edge. He looked down, realizing he still had on his work apron, and began to undo the strings behind his back. "That, uh… that must've been rough."

"Yeah, go figure, I married the one fox who got tired of the old model," she said with a chuckle. "Lucky me."

"Er, well, I don't mean t'make this all about me all of a sudden, but at least y'found someone."

"Oh?" Marian turned toward Gideon, who was folding his apron neatly into a small square in front of a navy blue tux his father had lent him for the occasion.

"Yeah, let's just say folks aren't exactly linin' up for anything more'n Gideon Grey's pies these days," he mused.

"Ah. That explains the wistful look toward all the happy dancing mammals earlier."

After tossing the apron back behind the table, Gideon faced the vixen, absentmindedly smoothing the wrinkles around the top of the tux, nearest his neck, that even a half hour with an iron had not been able to rectify. "I, uh, you… what?"

Marian smiled warmly – and for once, Gideon felt as though her half-lidded eyes were not the byproduct of an oncoming snide comment or something of the sort.

"Every time I saw you tonight, you looked lost. Like you didn't know if you belonged – and if you did belong, then how and why. Do you know what I mean?"

Gideon forced a grin. "How much were you looking at me?"

"I'm a fox, just like you, hon. I'm perceptive. And you looked like you needed someone to talk to. Was I wrong?"

"'Fraid not. Well, kinda. I'm happy to be here, 'cause Judy and Nick are real good friends, and I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"Yes, but…"

"…guess I've just been thinkin'. They're married now. Some of their friends in Zootopia I've met are, too. Heck, most of Judy and I's class here," he motioned around at the surrounding gymnasium of Bunnyburrow High, "got hitched already. Then there's ol' Gideon."

"And why's that even a problem?"

Cocking his head to one side, Gideon scrunched his brow and looked over at the vixen, who remained with her head and gaze trained forward. "Huh…?"

She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest; Gideon noticed for the first time a sparkling white gold necklace around her neck, with what looked to be a small ring of some sort at its center, concealed just beneath her folded arms.

"Hon, look: you've got your own business, first of all. I can count the number of foxes I know in Zootopia who run their own thing on one paw, and half of 'em closed down within a year. And let's see, sounds like you've got friends who care about you – most of all my son and daughter-in-law, who just took time out of their own wedding reception to make sure you knew it was quitting time so they could have some fun out there with you on the dancefloor."

She paused and smiled. "And best of all, in my opinion at least, you listened to some old woman's ramblings about life and love, as well as put up with her cruel, but good-natured – yes, good-natured, don't you give me that look – jokes. Got her mind off things for a little bit. My point is, you're good, Gideon Grey. You are. And sometime down the line, someone's going to take notice. I promise. You're still young, after all."

"I appreciate that, ma'am. It's been real nice talkin' to ya."

"Please, Gideon, call me Marian. I had to call my grandmother 'ma'am.' Not grandma. Ma'am. I never knew why, but it left a sour taste for the word in my mouth."

The music shifted once more to a slower, almost dirge-like hymn, one with barely enough of a registerable pulse that attendees found a rhythm to which to dance with a closely held partner. Gideon sighed, finally forcing his paws to stop attempting to smooth out the tuxedo wrinkles that could seemingly never be erased, and took one final sober leap, knowing full well that the spiked punchbowl was calling his name –

"M-Marian, I don't suppose, after this whole thing tonight, y'might… wanna…"

He heard her chuckle under her breath.

"Goodnight, Gideon Grey."

She was not even out of his periphery before Gideon was back to considering the different dancing styles he had witnessed throughout the evening, wondering if perhaps there would be room for a foxtrot before the night was over.

He smiled.


End file.
